The Deepest Black

It’s not like one minute you’re fine and the next you’re depressed. You feel it coming. You can see it, smell it, even taste it. Like a black fog slowly enveloping you until it’s the only thing you can see. You can be all alone, a little drunk and in your feelings at 2:30am. You can be surrounded by friends at a birthday party at 2:30pm. Depression really doesn’t give a shit about you or how you were expecting your day to play out.

I remember the last time my world went dark. The lights were dim, the music was pounding, and the beer in my hand was the only thing cold in the place. 11:30pm in a country bar. Couples gliding past in perfect sync to the beat. Smiling, laughing, in love. Suddenly, I remembered just how alone I had been feeling the last few weeks… I gripped the beer even tighter and took a long pull.

Not today. No, no, no. That black fog rolled toward me across the bar. I’m here with my friends, they’re having a great time, *we’re* having a great time. This can’t happen right now. The fog snaked around the flurry of dancers circling their way around the dance floor. I broke away from my friends and found a spot to blend in to the crowd.

The cliche is true. About how the background noise fades into a dull buzz that permeates your consciousness. The fog was getting closer. I decided to fight back. With logic and a few thought redirections from my therapy sessions, surely I could outwit depression tonight. I needed to shake this off and go back to my friends.

I began my counterattack. Reason and objectivity and all the logic in the world were my weapons. It was working, the black fog was slowly retreating across the bar and the music began coming back in. But depression is an illusive enemy. It holds power over you that you don’t understand until it’s too late.

“You can be the best damn pilot who ever lived, but you’ll Never have the love, affection, and intimacy shared by Anyone in this bar”

Fuck.

With one thought, the fog rushed in and my world went dark. Tears welling up in my eyes, I was paralyzed. I wanted to leave, wanted to run. But my body wouldn’t respond. I was locked in this nightmare and no one was going to save me.

That thought raced through my mind again and again and again and again. You’ll never be enough, no matter how hard you try. My chest tightened. It hurt to breathe. That dark inner voice was unchained. Game over.

I hadn’t crashed that hard in a while. My last breakup was months before and I had been doing as well as I could expect. Weekly therapy sessions had been keeping me on the right track. That’s the frightening part about depression. You think you can identify all the primary triggers and as long as you can avoid them, you should be alright. But some days the planets align and you’re powerless to stop it.

I’m scared that… one day it’s going to happen on the road. That I’ll have an airplane and a customer that needs to be somewhere and I’m a blubbering mess. How do you tell the company and the customer that one crew member is essentially Incapacitated due to mental / emotional stress? Good luck hiding that episode from an AME.

I guess all I can do is continuously monitor my mental state, create positive outcomes, and develop better “break the glass” emergency procedures for my own psyche. I cannot allow my life to be dictated by the black fog of depression. Because no matter how high we fly and how fast we go, I’m never going to be able to outrun myself.

Never Lose Your Spark

Imagine flying a new airplane to evaluate its handling qualities, performance, functionality and reliability. To be capable of providing recommendations to improve the airplane, and to see the impact of such work materialize in an airplane you are satisfied with. Powerful! Fun! Rewarding! Such was my concept of what I could experience as a Test Pilot and so I committed the next 10 years of my life to that quest. I left all behind. It was me and this dream, alone for 10 years.

I could not access the elite institutions that seemed to be a common denominator in so many test pilot biographies. If I could make the most of my studies, learn as much as I could, and work in the aerospace industry during my college years, I could show I was good enough to step into the Flight Test world. And so it was.

Two people were able to see the fire in me and so they believed. I was a professional and it made sense to do the best for the airplane we were developing, and its customers. I was capable of providing recommendations to improve the airplane, but instead of seeing an improved airplane, my career ended when people with higher power disagreed with such vocation. I was being punished for giving what is expected from a flight test professional. It was not the Company, it was the greed, the fear, and the ego inside the Company. The people in power. They saw me as labor and wanted me to do whatever they wished, to keep quiet, even if that meant releasing a defective airplane. There was no promotion, no career opportunities, no advancement, no recognition, no rewards for me after that. As much as I advocated for myself, I could not control the actions of these individuals.

It hurt deep in my soul, I fell in deep sadness for the next 4 years of my life and eventually lost my vocation. Nothing mattered anymore. Such trauma is perhaps only understood by those who have loved something or someone profoundly, the idealists in our society, the communities who lack equal opportunity.

My fire was dying, but a weak flame kept me going until it reignited from within to never be extinguished again. This time all I needed and wanted came from within. I retired early, started a business and fly for fun nowadays. My trauma is still there and I don’t ever want to work for anybody again. Independent I will be from now on.

The War Within

As I stepped out of the building, I looked up at the low overcast sky and thought to myself, “Dear God, just don’t let me have an emergency today.”

I was stepping to fly a T-38 as an instructor pilot in a formation training flight, and as you can probably guess, my prayer was NOT answered.  Just minutes before landing, the aircraft suffered from a malfunction that affected both the electrical system and normal extension of the landing gear.

My analysis of the malfunction was NOT my best performance, but my extensive training kicked in and the problem was handled correctly, despite my inability in the moment to diagnose the root cause.  

I should NOT have flown that day and my prayer walking out the door that morning should have been a clear sign of the action I needed to take…pull myself out of the flight.  

So why did I go you wonder.

Let me ask you this….have you ever been, or seen, an athlete that continued to play in a game despite clearly struggling with an injury?  I’m certain you have.  I will not pretend to know their reasons, but I can tell you mine, and I am not proud of it.

I was worried about what others would think.

There, I said it.  No one likes to be that person, the person who worries about what others think, we aren’t supposed to worry about that, right?  

The truth is, despite my intellectual understanding of that, I have accepted that it is a frequent battle of mine.  An enemy within.  Just as in war, it is difficult to battle an enemy you don’t understand or acknowledge.  Recognition gives you the power to take action.

Now consider this, is being concerned about what other think really always an enemy?

I believe the answer to that question is - it depends.

I have stopped shaming myself for having thoughts about what others might think, rather I recognize them and grab my weapons and armor.  Some days it helps me to defeat the false storyline I have created in my head, while other days, caring about what others think has proven to be a valuable tool in leadership.

Bottom line…your mental health matters and the only way to truly prioritize it is to be aware of it and take action when needed, even if it means taking the path less traveled.

Too Much Stress To Stomach

I just wanted to share this story for others who are struggling with their training and feeling doubtful of their journey. I started seriously training for my private pilot’s license when I was 17 years old. I had a difficult time with balancing college classes and trying to progress in my flying career. Something I really struggled with was self-doubt… and I do still battle with this enemy at times.

The negativity began at the very start of my training—I was so fixated on comparing my progress with others. Why wasn’t I doing better? Why was I so far behind everyone else? It was hard for me to love flying so much, but feel so inadequate at it.

When it came time for my checkride, I had studied as diligently as I could, but was still overwhelmed with nerves. To say the least… I threw-up 3 times that day. Once in the morning before I left the house… and twice in the plane. (The wind from my propped window blew a tiny bit of puke on to my DPE’s leg; he was not happy and yelled at me a few times during the flight.) To top it off, I bounced my landing and failed. It was a checkride from hell. Probably one of the worst checkrides you can imagine. I cried on my way home and reconsidered whether I should continue to fly or not because I felt so horrible about myself.

Like a song that’s stuck in your head on repeat, the phrase “I’m such a bad pilot” rang through my head anytime I would fly. It’s very difficult to overcome feelings like that, and this manifestation came true during my checkride. Thankfully, I passed two days later. However, when telling my examiner of my plans to pursue Part 141 training at a university flight school, he scoffed and said “Good, you need the help.”

My heart sunk because though I had finally accomplished a new milestone, I was reminded about how bad of a pilot I really was. This flawed perspective of my self-image carried into my Part 141 training. It wasn’t until I was paired with an instructor who really cared about me, that I was able to believe in myself again. I also met many more student aviators who uplifted me. They all encouraged me and helped me break out of my self-destructive habits, which also improved my piloting ability. They reminded me to look at all the amazing things I was accomplishing through my hard work, dedication, and passion.

The journey made the milestones worthwhile. I soon started to love aviation again because I could see the potential I had within myself. It was the potential I had to help, encourage, teach, inspire, and give back to others as they had done for me. All the hard work and strife was worth it, but I didn’t do it alone. My instructor and many aviators I met along the way showed me what it means to be a part of a community where people want to help each other.

I am now an Instrument Rated - Commercial Pilot, and I never would have thought that I could even make it this far! There were so many times when I wanted to quit, but I held on solely for my love of the aviation community. Best decision ever. I eventually found my way, and I can now laugh about the mean comments from my DPE or the embarrassing moments in my training.

It’s a part of the journey. We’re all human. I’m not perfect, and I still make mistakes, but it is a natural part of the learning process. Your mindset is the only thing that limits you. With determination, you can overcome the obstacles and accomplish your goals. You are good enough, so long as you are trying your best. Everyone has a unique path and moves at a pace that is best for them. Now, I often look back at the good I have done. It motivates me to keep going.

I also learned how important it is to share kindness with others and uplift them on their journey. Your comments may have a meaning and impact on their lives, so please share encouragement with your fellow aviators! I just wanted to share a snippet of my life in aviation and bring some hope to others.

You are so capable!

Lockup in the Clouds

No kidding… There I was.

12,000 MSL. 180 Knots. IMC. Maneuvering.

Barely.

Looking down at my mission profile, my mind had gone blank.

How did I get here? What am I doing? How do I get home?

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Aviate.

Even after hours of mission planning the night before, I didn’t know what to do. My body was still flying the aircraft, maintaining aircraft control in complete IMC. That moment when you become your own autopilot, as your mind is racing to orient itself and make sense of the situation at hand.

/

Navigate.

Nothing. I could see the boundaries of the Military Operations Area I was cleared into. Okay, I can at least maintain that. But what do all these notes mean on my leg? The maneuvers seemed foreign to me, almost as if they were written in a different language. I know I can’t leave this area until I complete these tasks, but I can barely read my kneeboard, much less execute a precise military flight maneuver.

I was Frozen.

/

Communicate.

Well, it’s time to confess. I got on the intercom to my Instructor Pilot.

“Sir, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

To summarize, my instructor was from the old school of flight training. He refused to give me any direction and let me circle blindly through the clouds. Well, I guess I’m on my own. At this point, I’m scared. At the controls of a high-performance turboprop with no idea how to recover is not an ideal situation.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Then the realization I’m not alone. We’re never alone in the air, no matter the conditions. I scribble some notes on my kneeboard and…

“Approach, xxxxx 25… Sir, I’ll be completely honest with you. I am completely lost. Can you give me vectors back to base”?

/

A few vectors lining up for the nearest ILS and…. CLICK. Everything came rushing back. Approach plate in hand and ATC backing me up, I was Aviating on heading and altitude, Navigating onto a precision approach and Communicating with my only friend in the sky.

With a slight crosswind correction, I landed safely.

/////

That experience has stuck with me ever since. At first, I was so angry at my instructor. I said nothing at the time, took the brutal debrief and did my best to move on. How could he have let me flounder like that? Let me embarrass myself and put the mission in jeopardy?

The truth of the matter is: It was exactly the wake-up call I needed.

The mission was flown in the simulator. No real harm done to anything but My Ego. That grim feeling of letting a high-performance aircraft fly You has never left me. Every time I plan a flight, especially in IMC, I remind myself how quickly and severely things can go wrong. I remind myself the importance of knowing and using all available resources whenever you need a helping hand. That sortie taught me one of the most important lessons in aviation:

I never want to feel that powerless at the controls of an aircraft Ever Again.